


our bodies are young and blue

by societysgot



Category: The Society (TV 2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst and Humor, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Harry is Cassandra's Yale Boy, Pre-Canon, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:48:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25048666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/societysgot/pseuds/societysgot
Summary: The dark haired girl blushed and looked over, but before she could say a word, Cassandra's eyes widened as the boy too turned around to face her. Her jaw fell open as their eyes locked.What thefuck, was HarryfuckingBingham doing in her dorm room.—or a pre-canon oneshot about what went down at yale admitted student's weekend
Relationships: Harry Bingham/Cassandra Pressman
Comments: 44
Kudos: 117





	1. got drunk on you and now i'm wasted

**Author's Note:**

> hello so i have been working on this on and off for ages
> 
> this story is based on a common theory that harry was the boy that cassandra hooked up with at yale. i've taken some liberties bc i'm no expert on american universities or their admitted students weekends but i really hope you enjoy it <3

**“We all knew how you felt about Cassandra, Harry. You were super fucking clear.”**

**The Society, 2019**

* * *

\- FRIDAY -

2:31pm

Cassandra felt a sort of elation, walking the grounds of the Yale Campus for the first time. In fact, part of her found it difficult to believe she was here. She had actually made it. Despite the multitude of health complications she had suffered over the last few years which seamed to constantly cloud her future with uncertainty, she was _here_. Heart pounding. In a good way, she thought. Ready to embark on her college journey. 

Well, not yet exactly. Admitted Students Weekend was merely to give her a taste of what her life would look like in six months time. Nevertheless, it was exciting. A change of scenery, opportunities on every corner — the polar opposite of the small town of West Ham. Cassandra loved her town but she could admit that she had always thought or maybe _hoped_ she was made for something more. Yale University certainly made her feel that way. The campus was way larger than she'd anticipated, and she had already gotten lost at least twice in the four short hours since her mother had dropped her off in New Haven. 

The morning had consisted of the Activities Fair which was crawling with hundreds of students. She had accepted way too many flyers from eager students, standing at their club stalls trying to gain new members — partly because she was excited, but mainly because she felt awkward turning them away. One thing she knew for certain, was that she wouldn't be joining the Celtic Music Appreciation society anytime soon.

Her new roommate, Ella Flynn, had warned her about how insistent the students could be and told her specifically to avoid eye contact with those you didn't want to talk to. But Cassandra had failed miserably, and she had a large stack of unwanted flyers in her bag to prove it.

She was relieved to find that her roommate was actually really nice. Ella was a psych major from Indiana who's brother was admitted to Yale the year before — so, she appeared to already be aware of the ins and outs of the place. She was a tall girl, with long dark locks of hair and an affinity for clubbing, which she had informed Cassandra just moments after meeting her. They had met earlier that day when they both got assigned their room, but she hadn't seen her since. 

As Cassandra made her way through the dormitories, fiddling with her keys, she scanned the second floor for the right room. She had already walked into the wrong one earlier that day, much to her own dismay and embarrassment and that of the guy who was standing half dressed in centre of the room. As she trailed her hand carefully along the wall until she reached the door with the number '21' printed on the front, she let out an exhale. Cassandra slowly turned her key in the lock and began stepping into the doorframe, her eyes on the floor.

"Hey, Ella, I was wondering if — Oh my god!" The blonde let out a loud gasp, as she took in the sight in front of her.

Her new roommate was wrapped up in what looked to be an intense make out session with a taller boy whose face she couldn't quite see, their arms tangled in each other's hair. It almost looked like he was eating her face, Cassandra thought as the two finally sprang apart at the sound of her voice. She really must have a knack for walking in on people at the wrong time. 

The dark haired girl blushed slightly and looked over at her breathlessly, but before she could say a word, Cassandra's eyes widened as the boy turned around to face her. Her jaw fell open as their eyes locked.

What the _fuck_ , was Harry _fucking_ Bingham doing in her dorm room.

"Oh! Cassandra, this is Harry—" Ella announced, with a smile before either of the West Ham rivals could speak, both of them adorning expressions of shock.

"Wow," was all Cassandra managed to say in disbelief, Harry running a hand through his brown waves of hair, looking uncomfortable, his lips pursed in a thin line.

"Harry, this is my roommate, Cassandra!" She exclaimed, gazing over at the boy next to her, admiringly. 

"Yeah, we've actually met," Cassandra replied, through gritted teeth, glaring at Harry who still hadn't said a word since she entered the room and was now smirking at her. 

"Really? Isn't he great?" Ella exclaimed, ruffling his hair, Cassandra noticing him side step away from her.

"The _best_ ," Cassandra sent him a greasy smile, before turning back to Ella. 

Harry rolled his eyes just as someone's phone began ringing loudly. The ringing sound only grew louder as Ella slipped her phone out of her back pocket, her eyes lighting up at whatever was on the screen. 

"Oh, it's my sister! I've got to take this, sorry, I'll be right back!" 

She gave Harry's arm a squeeze before venturing towards the door, smiling at them both. The two rivals remained rooted to the spot as Ella reached the hallway, conversing loudly. As soon as the door clicked shut behind her, Cassandra swung around on the spot, looking furious. 

"What the hell are you doing here?" She snapped, loudly.

"Didn't I mention I also got early admittance to Yale?" Harry replied, straightening up, a smug look on his face.

"You," The blonde said, trying to hide the disappointment in her voice, eyebrows furrowed, "You did...?"

"Well, don't sound so surprised," Harry drawled, looking irritated. His hair was sticking up in all directions yet somehow he still looked good. Cassandra cursed herself for noticing.

She shrugged. "I'm sorry, I just wasn't aware."

"Yeah, well I guess that's on me," He said, crossing his arms in front of his chest, "I'm not like you, you see, I don't broadcast my academic achievements—"

"I don't broadcast them—"

"Sure, you don't."

Cassandra bit her lip, in frustration, staring at the dark haired boy opposite her.

"Still doesn't explain why you're in my dorm room?" She quipped, after a brief pause, sending him a questioning look.

"Hey, how the hell was I supposed to know this was your room?" He bit back, putting his hands up in defence.

"Oh, so it's purely coincidental that you ended up in _here_ specifically?"

"What can I say — maybe it's fate," Harry said, throwing his arms in the air lazily, and Cassandra scoffed loudly, before plonking herself down on her bed with her back to him.

"How long have you known my dear roommate Ella, then?" She asked, raising her eyebrows at him, "An hour? Two?"

"We met this morning in a queue for churros at the activities fair."

"Oh, how romantic."

"Fuck off, Cassandra."

She turned around to face him, brushing her fringe out of her eyes, her lips curling into a smile.

"I should commend you, Harry. I mean, you really settle in _fast_ ," Cassandra said calmly, shrugging her shoulders.

Harry scoffed at her. "Compared to you, you mean? How many friends have you made? None, I'm guessing."

She tensed next to him, rolling her eyes. They had been doing this for years now. Always picking on each other for anything and everything, like it was a game — pushing each other to the limits and seeing how far they could bend before the inevitable happened, and one of them snapped. It was infuriating most of the time. But it was also thrilling — feuding with Harry Bingham. She had been his adversary for so long now that it was sometimes difficult to separate herself from him. Like they were two sides of the same coin. Bound to be in each other's lives forever. Perhaps, it wasn't so surprising after all that they were both at Yale. It wouldn't be Cassandra Pressman's life if Harry Bingham wasn't there to make it hell for her. 

"You know, that's why we're here right? To get to know people?" Harry took a step towards her and leaning against the wall opposite.

Cassandra stared at him for a moment, his dark mocking eyes catching the light. They were so brown and warm, almost chestnut coloured — she'd never noticed before. She quickly turned around, pulling out a few items of clothing from her bag, preferring not to reply at all. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction. 

"You going to that frat party tonight?" He asked, after a moment while she continued to ignore his existence and unpack her things.

"Oh wait, I forgot, you don't do that," He said, his voice dripping in sarcasm.

She sighed before looking up at his smirking face, eyes twinkling. He was getting on her last nerve and he knew it.

"Has anyone ever told you that you're a pain in the ass?"

His playful smile grew even wider at her snarky comment.

"Seriously, why don't you ever come? Scared you'll actually enjoy it?"

"I don't know what it matters to you, why don't you just leave it."

"Do you really intend to spend your entire weekend hauled up here?" Harry questioned, his arms folded in front of his chest.

"I'm not here to party, Harry," She finally relented, tiredly, her words coming out harsher than she intended, "I'm here to learn about the university that I'm going to be attending in the fall. Maybe you should too."

She had turned away from him now, pulling her jacket over her shoulders and tying her hair back in a loose ponytail. Harry followed her as she moved towards the door, practically blocking her path.

"So, you're just never gonna go to a college party, ever?" His raised his eyebrows, looking amused.

"We're not in college yet, Harry," She said, plainly before side-stepping around him and leaving the room.

* * *

_Cassandra's Phone,_ _4:31pm_

HARRY: so it's decided 

HARRY: you're coming tonight.

CASSANDRA: No? Definitely not.

HARRY: you're such a killjoy

HARRY: you're allergic to fun.

CASSANDRA: But you're going to be there

CASSANDRA: So how would that be fun...

HARRY: ouch

CASSANDRA: Truth.

HARRY: you're so annoying

CASSANDRA: So are you. _Read 4:35pm._  
  
  


* * *

6:17pm

Cassandra yawned, tiredly as she ploughed through yet another folder of study notes. Her admittance to Yale unfortunately hadn't stopped her teachers back in West Ham from piling on the work load. She sucked in a breathe, frustratedly as she reread the same paragraph her eyes had been gliding over for the past half hour — one which her brain was struggling to retain.

"You know what you need — is a night off," She heard Ella announce loudly from behind her.

She had been pulling clothes out of her bag for the past half hour, matching different dresses with different shoes.

Cassandra laughed, and turned round to face her.

"I like that one the most," She said, gesturing at the short strappy dress Ella was currently adorning.

The dark haired girl nodded in agreement before turning back to her, hands on her hips.

"I'm serious, Cassandra. You should come out with us," She said, fastening the straps on her dress, "Whatever you're studying for can wait. This is our first _frat_ party!"

The blonde looked over at her, and the excitement in Ella's face almost made her feel tempted.

"You know, Harry is going to be there," Ella continued, analysing her cleavage in the mirror, a glint in her eyes.

Cassandra's smile was gone immediately after that. 

"All the more reason to not go then." She muttered to herself, quietly.

* * *

9:12pm

Cassandra stood in the corner of the living room, arms crossed in front of her chest. She couldn't believe she had let herself be talked into coming to this thing. Allie would be laughing hysterically if she knew, she thought to herself. Ella and the other girls were already four rounds of shots deep and walking around the house like they owned the place. Cassandra admired their confidence but was struggling to be on their level. This really wasn't her scene, after all. There was also the fact that Ella, the only person she knew to some extent at this party, had disappeared down the hallway giggling raucously with a shaggy blonde haired jock some time ago and Cassandra hadn't seen her since. She, on the other hand, had been staring at the front door, wondering when a socially acceptable time to leave would be. 

"Well, look who decided to show up," Said a familiar voice from behind her, and the blonde cursed under her breathe before she even turned around. 

"Ha ha." She muttered, as she slowly turned her head in his direction, his gaze meeting hers. 

It would only have been a matter of time before they crossed paths again, she supposed. He stood a few feet away, his shirt slightly unbuttoned, stubble gracing his cheeks. He looked right at home in this setting which didn't surprise her. Harry Bingham was notorious for throwing the biggest parties in West Ham. Cassandra hadn't been to a single one, unless you counted his 13th birthday party in middle school. He had stopped inviting her to his parties a long time ago. 

"Pressman, actually taking my advice for a change? Wow, it is really is an honour," He was smirking now, but there was a warmth in his face that she found she couldn't ignore.

"Don't flatter yourself. I was dragged here against my will," Cassandra said, plainly, "By your hot date from this morning actually."

"Oh, nice — how is Ellie?" Harry put the cup to his lips, taking a slow sip as he watched her. 

"It's Ella."

"Right, yeah, that's what I said," He said, nodding resolutely, the blond letting out a sigh as she rolled her eyes. 

"Unbelievable."

"So, you're here to socialise?" Harry continued, ignoring her comment completely. 

"Well, yeah, I guess." 

"Right," He nodded, before looking around, "And how's that going for you?"

He made a point to survey the space around her — which was severely lacking in company at the present moment. The blonde's eyes narrowed on him, however just as she opened her mouth to respond, a gaggle of girls grabbed her arm.

"Oh, it's Cassandra! Cassandra, this is Jess and Elena!" A voice sang, excitedly.

The girl closest to her, she immediately recognised to be Lola, a girl who was boarding opposite Cassandra in their college. Ella had introduced them that morning so they had spoken briefly despite the girl's seemingly shy nature. However, she was clearly inebriated now and much more open to conversation. Cassandra gave Harry a satisfied smirk before trotting away with her new found friends, leaving the dark haired boy rolling his eyes.

The hours past by in a blur after that — the music pounding in her ears making the wooden floorboards shake, the neon lights bouncing off the walls. As surprised as she was to admit it, part of her was actually enjoying herself. It felt good to let loose for once and not worry about every little thing — it was a habit of hers to do that. To overthink, to overanalyse. Maybe this was why people liked to go out so much — it was a way to live in the present. The _here and now_. A freeing notion that Cassandra — being the logical and rational person she was — was not very accustomed to.

Not to mention, the alcohol was giving her confidence — she had talked to more people tonight than she had all day in the dorms. She even managed to hold conversations with some of the older looking guys. Who would've thought she would have to come to a frat house to have intellectual discussions with sophomore boys. 

The guy talking to her now resembled that much. He had said his name when he first approached her but she couldn't remember it now. She was too busy admiring his eyes and the way his blonde hair framed his tanned face. He had a sophisticated way of speaking too which she enjoyed, gesturing calmly as he went. But he was speaking about some theoretical concept that Cassandra herself was struggling to comprehend — partly because the music was so loud she could barely hear and also because the many cups of punch she had downed moments ago were seriously starting to hit her. Nevertheless, she nodded along, listening intently and contributing whenever she could. 

"You know, I don't think your boyfriend likes that I'm talking to you," The boy (Jonathan? Jonathan) said suddenly, in a joking tone.

Cassandra's eyebrows quirked up in shock at at that.

"Wait, what?"

"Or, is he your ex-boyfriend?"

She slowly turned around, still confused as she followed Jonathan gaze, until her eyes landed on the person in question. Harry. He was standing across the room, eyes locked on her. She noticed him quickly avert them back to the girl he was talking to, leaning in close and whispering something in the her ear. Cassandra stared at them momentarily, an unfamiliar knotted feeling settling in her gut. What the hell was he playing at?

The blonde turned around, slightly flustered. "Oh, he's not....we're not....never.....I...."

"Oh, well, I guess that's good for me then," Jonathan replied, a small smirk on his face.

Cassandra felt her cheeks redden and she smiled back. She wasn't used to boys openly flirting with her. Boys in West Ham weren't exactly lining up to date her.

They exchanged numbers not long after that, Cassandra's fingers fumbling nervously over the keys as she typed hers in. As he continued to talk, it was taking everything in her not to turn around and see if Harry was still looking at her. She wasn't even sure why she wanted to know. (It's not like she cared. Obviously.) But she need not have pondered for much longer, as after Jonathan placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and returned to his friends, she turned around to find Harry nowhere to be found.

She stood awkwardly on the edge of the dance floor for a minute, smiling at Jonathan as he walked away, unsure of where to go. She quickly decided that perhaps she would try and find Ella — it had been an hour or so since she'd seen any of the girls in fact. However, just as she made up her mind and began to turn around, she let out a loud cry as a cold liquid splashed all down her front. She looked up, to find a dark haired guy, staggering forward in her direction, the contents of his cup having just been knocked all over her. 

"F-fuck, I'm so sorry," The guy grabbed her by the shoulder, partly she assumed to gain back his balance as well as to emphasise his apology. 

She forced a smile as he moved away from her, leaving her and her soaked-through shirt frozen on the spot. She quickly abandoned her search for the other girls, and decided a bathroom was a more necessary stop at the moment. Cassandra turned on her heel and walked back through the lounge room until she found the hallway, wringing out her shirt and uttering curses as she went, leaving a trail of some kind of odd fusion of punch and vodka on carpet. 

Having asked a few drunken strangers, she finally got pointed in the direction of the bathroom — on the second floor of the building. She stood outside, tapping her foot impatiently while holding her arms awkwardly over her chest, attempting to hide the prominent stain.

And when the door finally opened, none other than Harry walked out of it and Cassandra sighed loudly. _Of course_ , he would be here. He always managed to be exactly where she didn't want him to be. Typical. Harry looked her up and down for a second before he presumably noticed her stained shirt. His face broke into a smile and she felt her fist clench. He leaned against the door frame intentionally blocking her path, his dark curls falling into his eyes.

"Woah, what happened to you?"

She rolled her eyes at that.

"What do you think?"

She quickly pushed past him into the bathroom to assess the damage. Fuck. Her shirt was practically see-through and the black lace bra she had chosen to wear earlier that night was suddenly feeling like a pretty reckless choice. She felt her cheeks beginning to burn as she locked eyes with Harry through the mirror. She leaned forward, splashing water over herself.

"Shit," She murmured.

"You could...you could wear my jumper instead if you want?" Harry said, sheepishly, with a casual shrug, after a minute or so of watching her struggle with soap and water, "Only if you want."

"No, uh, it's fine," She replied quickly, almost as a reflex.

She didn't like accepting favours from most people — especially not when they came from Harry Bingham. But if she was being honest, favours almost never came from Harry Bingham. No, normally, they both went _out_ of their way to make each other's lives intentionally _more_ difficult. Part of their unofficial contract as West Ham rivals, she supposed. Or just Harry's way of reminding her how much he hated her. The blonde paused for a second before continuing to splash water on the shirt in an attempt to scrub it out, avoiding his eye line.

"Alright, Pressman," He moved towards the door, with a swift nod.

Her eyes followed him as he moved away, flitting between him and the shirt — soaked and crumpled against her skin. With one last frustrated sigh, she released the still stained shirt in her hands and called out after him.

"Harry, on second thought could I—"

And he was already walking back towards her, taking his jumper off and passing it over, a small smirk gracing his lips. She nodded her thanks, and begun to unbutton her soaked shirt. As her hands reached the final button, she noticed his eyes still on her.

"Could you, like, not look?" She whispered a few seconds later, turning away from him, colour rushing to her cheeks again.

"Right, yeah. Sorry." He said, meeting her eyes awkwardly and shifting his stance so that he was facing the other way.

But as he turned away, Cassandra couldn't help but notice some part of her deep, _deep_ inside, wanting him to keep looking. She hurriedly pushed the thought out of her mind, and pulled the wet shirt off her shoulders, replacing it with his grey jumper. It was big on her, the sleeves sitting well over her hands. The material was warm too, and smelt just like him. And his stupid (undoubtably expensive) cologne.

"Can I turn around now?"

She rolled the sleeves up before meeting him out in the hall, a small smile on her face. They moved towards the second floor landing in silence, Cassandra feeling oddly amused at this strange truce they seemed to have subconsciously landed on. As they reached the bottom of the stairs, she scanned the room for her new-found friends. She saw Lola lounging on a guy's lap and the other girls nowhere in sight. _They won't miss me if I leave now_ , she thought to herself, and with that she slowly padded to the front door.

"Woah, where you going?" Harry asked, from behind her, eyebrows raised.

"Back to the dorms."

"But it's barely midnight...?"

"I'm pretty tired, Harry," Cassandra sighed, letting the cold night air wash over her as she reached the open door, "I guess, I'll see you round."

She paused in the doorway for a moment and chanced a quick glance back at him before moving down the front steps. The blonde was half way down the garden path when she heard him falling in step behind her, his hands shoved in his pockets. 

"Well, if you're really going...I'll walk you back to campus."

The blonde let out a laugh, as she continued walking, amused at his comment. Harry Bingham wouldn't be caught dead leaving a party this early and she knew it. 

"Yeah, _okay_. Sure." 

She kept striding forward until she felt a hand latching on her arm, gently pulling her back around. He was a silhouette against the lights shining down from the frat house, tall and dark. 

"What's so funny?" He questioned, eyebrows raised.

The blonde stared back, surprised to see the way he spoke — almost with an air of sincerity. No mocking words, no annoying smirks. Almost unrecognisable.

"You're being serious?" Cassandra blinked, looking sceptically up at him.

"Yes?" Harry nodded, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

" _Oh_. Okay, then," She stared, almost dumbfounded before they fell into step side by side, "Thanks."

They were enveloped in silence after that, their arms brushing against each other every so often as they walked. When they finally reached the entrance to the dormitories, Cassandra thought this might have been the longest they had gone without picking a fight with each other. They deserved a medal for this, she was beginning to think, just as Harry turned to her and broke the silence. 

"So, who was that guy you were talking to?" He asked, with attempted nonchalance.

An amused smile snaked its way onto her face at that. "Wouldn't you like to know..." 

"What?" Harry's gaze flitted over to her, eyebrows furrowed.

"His name's Jonathan. He's a second year." She continued, quickly, "What about you? Who was that girl you were talking to?"

"Oh...just a friend."

"And how does Kelly feel about your new "friend"? Or friends, should I say." She said, her tone light and teasing, as she thought back to his little rendez-vous with her roommate earlier that day. 

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"So, she doesn't know then? Thought so."

"Wait, you know that Kelly and I broke up over a month ago," He said, halting suddenly.

"Oh, okay," Cassandra said, defensively, "I'm sorry, I don't keep tabs on your personal life. Aren't you guys pretty on-again off-again?"

Harry shook his head, his lips pursed in annoyance as they moved down the first floor of the dormitories. 

"Did you seriously believe I would cheat on her?"

"I don't know, anything's possible with you, Harry," She replied with a shrug.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, I wouldn't be that surprised, that's all."

Harry paused for a moment, holding a breath in, stopping outside what appeared to be his own room.

"Fuck you, Cassandra," Harry then said, pushing his door open and stepped inside, swiping his dark curls out of his eyes in frustration.

"It's true, isn't it? " Cassandra scoffed, following right behind him, without a second thought.

Just as she took a step closer to him, he whipped around to face her, causing her to almost run into him.

"You know what, I'm so sick of you thinking that you're better than everyone," Harry said, waving a finger in her face.

"What are you — what has that got to do with anything?" She exclaimed, incredulously.

"You — you're always fucking judging me. And my relationships!"

"When have I ever — you _wish_ I was that interested in your relationships," Cassandra snorted, arms crossed in front of her small frame.

"I'm sorry, have you ever actually been in a relationship, Cassandra?" Harry snapped back.

Cassandra's face fell at that, a glare gracing her features.

"Low blow, Harry."

"No — seriously, you stand there all high and mighty, thinking that you know best, when you fucking don't!"

"That's not true. You don't even know me." She said, faltering slightly under his gaze, her heart beat loud and irregular beneath her ribcage.

"Oh, but I _do._ "

"All you ever do is contradict everything I say, like it's some stupid competition — so no, I don't think you know a goddamn thing."

Harry shook his head in disbelief, his face dangerously close to hers; his breathe warm on her cheek. The blonde felt her stomach lurch at the closeness, a jolt of yearning sweeping through her and heading straight to her groin. She shifted on the spot, attempting to ignore it. 

"Are you — are you serious? Is that what you think I do?"

"What am I supposed to think?"

They stood almost chest to chest now. She noticed his gaze drop to her mouth as he licked his lips impatiently, and Cassandra stepped forward — their faces so close now they were practically recycling the same air.

"I think you're just mad because I'm the only one who calls you out on your shit when you need it — which is most of the time!"

"Well, I don't need that," She seethed, "And I certainly don't need you."

"Fine!"

" _Fine!"_

A split second passed before his lips came crashing down onto hers and Cassandra hooked her arms around his neck, drawing him closer without a second thought. The kiss was hard and rough, like all of their pent up rage and anger was finally being forced to the surface in a collision of tongues and mouths. Yet, their closeness wasn't enough for either one, the blonde knotting her fists into his shirt and pulling him harder against her. Harry let out a groan at that, deep in his throat as he ran a hand through her tangled waves of hair, the other sliding down her back, as his lips moved hungrily against hers — like his life depended on it.

When they broke a part for a split second, they found themselves breathless — lustful eyes raking over each other as they took the other in. But not for too long though — not long enough for Cassandra to stop herself and start thinking rationally. No — all rational thought had completely left her and all she could see and think and feel — was him, his toned arms around her waist, his dark curls brushing against her skin, his strong cologne suffocating her senses.

His lips were back on hers within seconds, moulding against her mouth like they were supposed to be there — he tasted like alcohol and bad decisions, but when he bit her lip for entrance she quickly abided. Before long, he began to trail sloppy kisses down her neck, causing her to let out a soft moan, heat pooling between her legs as he shoved her up against the wall behind them.

He was good at this, she thought frustratedly, as he pressed a kiss to her collarbone and she shuddered. Somehow it made her hate him even more. He pulled at the jumper she was wearing and it slipped off her seamlessly, revealing the same bra he had seen her in earlier, but before he could get a proper look, Cassandra was tearing at his shirt. She pulled at the buttons, her hands fumbling over the material, her face flushed with desire, her mind in a daze.

When his eyes locked with hers for a split second though, she almost pulled away — knowing that this was _it._ The moment right before the coin lands — when it's suspended in midair. Whatever happened now would make or break them. But when Harry pulled his shirt the rest of the way off and captured her mouth in a searing kiss — so violent and so passionate that she almost forgot how to breathe — she found that they had no choice. He needed this just as much as she did. 

And there was no going back now.


	2. i knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello everyone!! chapter two is finally here yayyyy <3  
> sorry it took me a while to update!! also just a few things:
> 
> 1\. this chapter is quite long and v dialogue heavy — this was not the original plan but here we are lmao. this oneshot kinda took on a life of it's own so i'm sorry if it doesn't flow as well as it should ugh. 
> 
> 2\. if it's not clear already, this three-part fic takes place over the span of three days, each chapter is a day from their admitted student's weekend. just thought i'd clarify that. 
> 
> 3\. i listened to folklore a LOT while finishing this chapter off, so listening to illicit affairs and august while reading this is a MUST tbh (also stream folklore mm yeah)
> 
> 4\. any kudos or comments would be greatly appreciated. i really hope you enjoy it. <3

\- SATURDAY -

8:42am

Cassandra stirred slowly as the bright rays of sun from outside began to intensify and warm her cheeks. Her eyes flickered opened slowly, struggling to adjust to the light overwhelming the room. As she let out a low yawn, the blurred shapes surrounding her began to take form. But the room she was in...didn't resemble that of her own. She slowly turned over onto her side, trying to piece together how in gods name she had ended up _here._ The sound of movement beside her caused her to jolt and as her eyes fell onto the sleeping form beside her, she let out a loud gasp.

He was curled up on the other side of the bed, with his back to her. Harry Bingham. She was in Harry Bingham's bed. 

Fuck. 

_Fuck._

Immediately, she pulled the sheets up to her chin, her cheeks reddening as she noticed herself to only be wearing underwear. The blonde clenched her eyes shut as images of the night before began to cascade through her brain. She could still feel him — his fingers on her waist, in her hair, down her back — inside her. 

God, she was so utterly and colossally _fucked_. 

Leaning sideways off the the bed, she snatched up her belongings and hurriedly picked up the closest item of clothing she could find, before tiptoeing the hell out of there and praying to the Gods that he hadn't woken up.

When she finally made it back to the safety of her room, a string of curse words left her lips as she fell back onto her bed dramatically — the enormity of what had occurred the night before beginning to hit her. 

Yet, by the time she had showered and changed, and made her way to the cafeteria for breakfast, she had successfully managed to push all thoughts of the previous night out of her mind. _If I ignore it, it will go away._ At least, that's what she kept telling herself. And it seemingly worked — that was, until she was lining up at the breakfast buffet and somehow managed to lock eyes with _him_ of all people, from half way across the room. 

And to make matters worse, he seemed to be heading directly towards her. Or the buffet table. She couldn't be sure — but the knowing smile he sent her way as he approached, told her it wasn't just the food he was after. The blonde let out a breathe, picking up the plate nearest to her and beginning to move down the table. He reached her within seconds, stepping behind her in the queue and picking up his own plate. 

"Morning," He had a glint in his eye as he spoke to her which made her nervous. 

The blonde flipped her hair over her shoulder and attempted a smile, avoiding his gaze as much as she could. "Morning." 

She noticed his eyes drop from her face to her neck and her brows crinkled in confusion. 

He smirked slightly, pointing towards her collarbone, "You, uh, got a little something there."

"What?"

Cassandra's hand flew to her neck at that, and when her fingers brushed over the slightly raised skin, she felt her cheeks redden. Her eyes narrowed on him, as she hurriedly pulled the collar of her shirt up, in order to cover the mark — which she knew very well to be _his_ doing.

"Last night was a mistake." Cassandra hissed, scooping fruit onto her plate meticulously.

A smug smile laced through his features as he grabbed a few bits of bacon and some toast before turning back to her. His hair was still messy from the night before, Cassandra resisting the urge to reach out and run her fingers through it.

"Now, how did I know you were going to say that?"

"It shouldn't have happened," The blonde said defiantly, as she moved along the buffet table with more haste, barely even paying attention to what she was piling onto her plate. 

Harry nodded, looking amused, "I agree, wholeheartedly."

When they made it to the end of the table — both their plates full of food, she felt him step a little closer, leaning over her to reach for the cutlery _._ _Goddamn him and his stupid cologne_ , Cassandra thought as his smell washed over her and she found herself suddenly questioning why last night was a mistake at all.

She swallowed, before turning around to look him in the eye, her face stern — at least as stern as she could make it. "It's never going to happen again."

He gave a casual shrug, before taking a bite into his toast. "Good." 

" _Good._ "

* * *

1:49pm  
  
  


It was almost warm outside by the time Cassandra made it back to the dormitories after the first lecture of the morning. She had managed to get lost twice already, moving from building to building in search of the right rooms. Ella had accompanied her to the first few but after lunch, informed Cassandra that she had had enough of the academic activities for one day — and with that, she had disappeared out of the cafeteria with the blonde haired guy from the night before. 

Thus, Cassandra found herself making her way back through the second floor dormitories alone. She paused on the landing, staring at her phone as she desperately tried to zoom in on the mobile map in order to find the building she was looking for. It seemed to be on the other side of the campus which was marvellous, considering she was most definitely going to be late.   
  
"Blondie, back so soon, huh?"

Cassandra turned on her heel, to find a guy she didn't recognise staring at her expectantly, with a joking smile. He was standing a few feet away, inside the closest dorm room. 

She raised her eyebrows in confusion. "Excuse me?"

But instead the boy turned his head in the other direction, looking back into the room. "That's her, isn't it?"

"Who the hell are you talking about—"

Cassandra braced herself, recognising the voice straight away. When Harry finally stepped into view from the other side of the room, he trailed off quickly, eyes widening when he saw her. She internally facepalmed as she took in her surroundings — it was same room from the night before. Of course. But in her defence, the blonde hadn't noticed what it looked like from the outside at the time — after all she had entered and exited the room in a very rushed fashion — and all the rooms looked the same. 

His gaze reached hers. "Hi."

"Hey," She muttered, her eyes lingering on him for a moment.

"Seriously, though. Nice work, man," The boy cut in loudly, from the side, winking at Harry.

Cassandra and Harry both exchanged a look, the blonde frowning. 

Harry turned to his roommate, rolling his eyes. "Shut the fuck up, Liam."

"What? I'm just saying," Liam muttered, raising his arms in front of him defensively, an annoying smirk plastered on his face as he moved towards the door, "What a score."

Just as he passed her through the doorway, Cassandra felt herself stick her foot out, almost of her own volition. She watched as Liam collided with her leg, and stumbled forward, cursing as he went. Once he had managed to gain his footing, he glared at her.

"Sorry!" The blonde said, innocently, but as soon as he looked the other way, she was sending daggers into the back of his head. 

She turned back to find Harry watching the interaction unfold, an amused expression on his face as he let out a soft laugh. 

"What are you looking at?"

His grin only grew wider at that, "Nothing."

He was smiling at her now — like really smiling, the smallest of dimples appearing in his cheeks. It was an interesting thing to see given their history. His smiles always seemed to be reserved for everyone except her. _Almost a miracle_ , she thought. 

What was even more miraculous though, was that she could even look him in the eye after the events of the night before. She almost shuddered in embarrassment — the way his name had fallen so easily from her lips, the way he had kissed almost every inch of her skin and she had just _let_ him. 

_Fuck._

"So, are you going to the lectures today?" She questioned suddenly, clearing her throat as casually as she could manage. 

Harry gave a half assed shrug, before shaking his head. "Probably not."

"You know, that author you like, Rob Meyers — he's doing one."

Harry turned his back on her momentarily, apparently preferring to say nothing at all. The blonde stood awkwardly in the doorway, her arms crossed in front of her chest.

"Are you gonna go?"

"Cassandra, don't do that," He snapped suddenly, as he faced her again. 

She stared back, confused. "Don't do what?"

"That _thing_ , where you act like you care about me."

"I _do_ care about you."

A smirk pulled at the corners of his mouth, and Cassandra resisted the urge to roll her eyes as she added, "Sometimes."

The dark haired boy nodded, with a sceptical but nonetheless amused expression. 

"I just thought you might be interested that's all."

Harry let out a breathy laugh. "Yeah...I'm not going."

He held her gaze for a few seconds longer before Cassandra let out a loud sigh. 

"Well, when your mom asks you about what you learnt about Yale at Admitted Student's weekend, I'm sure you'll have _lots_ to tell her," She said with a little too much enthusiasm, as she bid him leave and began to step out of his room into the hallway.

"It's a good thing my mom and I don't really talk then," He called out after her, bitterness seeping through every syllable.

At that, Cassandra halted on the spot, her mouth forming an 'o' shape as a look of guilt registered in her face. She lowered her gaze and brushed her fringe out of her eyes, before slowly turning back around to face him.

"I'm sorry."

Harry waved her off lazily, his expression unchanged. "How did you know I like Rob Meyers, anyway?"

"You've referenced him in your debates. A couple times actually."

He raised his eyebrows, meeting her gaze. "Oh? I didn't realise you paid attention to what I said in debates."

"Well, unlike you, Harry, I actually listen to my teammates when they're talking instead of zoning out," Cassandra replied, feigning a look of disapproval.

"How good of you."

"That's how I know you referenced him twice. Both good arguments, I hate to admit," Cassandra stated, almost begrudgingly. 

"Was that a compliment I heard, Pressman?"

"Never," She shot back, with a coy smile.

"Well, you've got a good memory — I'll give you that," Harry eventually said. 

Cassandra battered her eyelashes playfully at that. "That's why I do all the school plays."

"Right," Harry sucked in a breath,"And steal the parts that are meant for the guys."

"Oh please," The blonde scoffed, "You're just mad that I got Rosencrantz because he has more lines than Guildenstern."

Harry's mouth fell open in shock at that, a tinge of redness creeping into his cheeks. "That is so—"

"—completely and utterly true?" Cassandra tilted her head to the side, "You _so_ counted the number of lines."

"I did not."

"You totally did."

"You know, for someone who hates me you sure know a lot about me," An impish smile crept onto his face as he spoke, "What's up with that?"

He was standing close to her now, his dark eyes staring her down. Cassandra's lips curled into a small smirk.

"Well, you know what they say — keep your friends close, but your enemies closer," She said, innocently, as his eyes darted down to her mouth and back up again. 

She felt her breathe hitch in her throat.

"They do say that, don't they," He replied, his voice almost hoarse as he looked down at her.

Cassandra licked her lips before stepping back slightly, her gaze dropping to the floor.

"I have to go."

"Of course."

* * *

2:52pm

The Abbey Lecture theatre on the first floor of the Law and Communications building was quickly filling up by the time Cassandra arrived. It almost made her feel bad for the professor who's lecture she had sat through just minutes ago — the one with an embarrassingly bad turn out. The blonde had felt so guilty, she made sure to give the lecturer a warm smile and to thank him for his work on her way out — not that that could in any way salvage the situation.

Evidently, that professor was not nearly as popular amongst students as Rob Meyers — his lecture theatre being almost at full capacity now. _Maybe, Harry's keen interest in his works was warranted after all,_ she thought. Cassandra swiftly weaved her way through the rows of seats crawling with people until she found a few vacant ones in the upper back corner, near one of the aisles. She sat down, scrolling through her phone for a moment.

"Is this seat taken?" A voice to her left called out.

When her eyes landed on the figure beside her, her look of surprise quickly turned to one of satisfaction. 

"You showed up," She commented.

"I know," Harry replied, plonking himself down next to her, "Can you believe it?"  
  
Before she could reply however, a silence fell amongst the students as Rob Meyers began to introduce himself. But he was barely half way through presenting the second slide, when Harry turned to her. 

"You know, I really can't stand lectures."

Cassandra send him a quizzical look. "Well, the next four years are going to be bliss for you."

"Like if you're gonna make us sit here for hours and hours, at least present the content in an engaging way."

"Is your beloved Mr Meyers not living up to your expectations?" She pouted, with an amused smile.

He rolled his eyes at that before leaning back in his chair, and returning his attention to the front. The remainder of the lecture passed in much the same way. But Cassandra had to admit that even if the concepts Mr Meyers was introducing were somewhat interesting, his monotone voice was almost coma-inducing. 

The blonde found herself struggling to focus as he moved from slide to slide. And Harry's constant commentary wasn't helping her ability to concentrate either. The third time he turned to her to make a comment — this time about the lack of visuals in the powerpoint — Cassandra sucked in a breathe, looking frustrated. 

"Can you stop doing that?" She hissed, brushing her fringe out her eyes, as she jotted a few notes down on the book in front of her. 

"Doing what?"

"Whispering in my ear? I can't hear anything he's saying," She muttered, a frown gracing her features. 

She felt his eyes on her but refused to look in his direction.

(But it was becoming more and more difficult to ignore the way her heart rate tripled in speed every time he was within two feet of her.) 

"I thought you liked that. You seemed to last night."

She felt heat rush to her cheeks. " _What_?" 

"Yeah, I remember you liking it...a _lot_ actually" He was even closer to her now, his face mere inches from her own and it made the hair on her skin prick up. 

She swivelled on the spot, sending a thunderous glare his way. 

"Can you just shut u—"

"Excuse me, up the back? Please don't speak while I'm speaking," A booming voice called out and Cassandra froze, turning to the front to find none other than the lecturer, Mr Meyers, staring her down. 

He crossed his arms in front of his chest, an appalled expression gracing his ageing features. 

"I'm _so_ sorry, sir." Cassandra blurted after a moment, blushing furiously as several heads turned to look at her. 

The blonde slid lower in her seat, avoiding Harry's gaze, as the lecturer sent another disapproving look her way before finally moving on with the coursework. When she heard a small laugh escape Harry's lips, she slapped him hard on the arm, practically fuming. 

"Did the Student Body President just get yelled at?"

 _"_ I'm going to kill you."

They didn't say a word to each other for the rest of lecture which was probably for the best considering Mr Meyers kept giving her the side eye every time someone so much as coughed in her corner of the lecture theatre. When the lecture finally concluded, the two West ham rivals were swept away in the crowd of students exiting the auditorium, the blonde relieved to blend in with everyone else again. Extracting themselves from the chaos, they both moved to the side of the doorway, letting the stampede of students pass.

"I'm mad at you," She huffed, as she continued to walk briskly towards the courtyard in front of the building. 

Harry cocked his head to the side as he walked along side her, and with an annoyingly perfect smile replied "No more than usual?"

"I'm serious," The blonde said, drawing herself up to her full height as she faced him, "You just humiliated me in front of that entire lecture theatre."

"I'm pretty sure that _you_ were the one being too loud," He said, suggestively and Cassandra sent him a pointed look, "Besides, I gave you five minutes of fame with _my_ favourite author. You should be thanking me."

The blonde shook her head in frustration while he continued to laugh, but as she opened her mouth to retort, a voice from behind them caught her attention. 

"Cassandra! Hello, again."

They both turned around to find Jonathan standing a few feet away. He looked between the two of them before his eyes settled on her.

"Jonathan? Hi."

He smiled widely, motioning at the room behind them. "Enjoy the lecture? Rob's a wonderful speaker."

"Y-you were in the lecture?" Cassandra muttered quietly, her heart sinking at the thought of him witnessing what had just happened.

"No, no — I just knew he was speaking today," He chuckled, as Cassandra let out a sigh of relief. 

"Oh, thank god," She said to herself, elbowing Harry in the side when she noticed him holding back laughter out of the corner of her eye. 

Jonathan turned his attention to the boy next to her. "Don't think we've met? I'm Jonathan."

"Harry." He said, bluntly with a swift nod.

She stood very still between the two of them, trying to ignore the feeling of uneasiness that was finding a home in her stomach. Harry took a step closer to her, eyeing Johnathan warily. She noticed Johnathan straighten up, seemingly taller than he was a few seconds ago. 

"I have to meet with some people," Harry suddenly said, his eyes still locked on Johnathan, "But I'll see you at the tour later, maybe."

She turned to respond to him but he was already leaving, lightly brushing a hand over her lower back as he went. The blonde watched him go, her skin tingling under her shirt where his fingers had just been. 

"He seems friendly."

Cassandra jolted at the sound of Johnathan's voice. He, like her, was watching Harry walk away. But his expression was less warm than it had been before. 

"So, how do you guys know each other anyway?" He asked, as she turned back around to face him.

_That's a long story._

* * *

4:21pm

The hours of the afternoon went by rather fast in Jonathan's company. She may not have known the boy long but one thing she did know, was that he _loved_ to talk. Cassandra considered herself a rather talkative person herself, but next to him she could probably be considered a mute. Not that she minded it much — after all, he was intelligent, well-spoken and was seemingly a walking-talking library of tales about life at the university, which she could appreciate. 

After sharing a bite to eat under the shade of the Sweetgum trees in Yale's courtyard, the two had made their way to the meeting point of the campus tour. But as soon as they had joined the group of students waiting, Cassandra found herself zoning out from Jonathan's voice, quietly surveying the faces around her, searching for the one who _said_ he'd be here. _Maybe, he won't show_ , she thought. _Why do I even care?_

The tour started not long after with Harry Bingham nowhere to be found. However, upon arriving at the third stop of the tour, she noticed him standing a few feet away, his hands stuffed in his pockets. They locked eyes, and she offered him a small smile before they moved onto the next location. He nodded her way, but preferred to stay a few paces behind, talking with another guy she didn't recognise. She tore her gaze away from him.

"Of course, there are many study groups and societies you can make yourself available for, if you want to extend yourself in your course," Jonathan continued, as they made their way with the rest of the crowd through the medical buildings, "Is literature something that interests you?"

"Oh yes, very much," Cassandra nodded, fervently, trying to keep up with his walking pace.

His tall frame meant he took much larger strides as he walked, leaving Cassandra almost skipping to keep up with him. The only comfort was the fact that the rest of the University tour group surrounded them, so at least no one would probably notice. 

In no time at all, they had passed the medicine and law faculties, and were now steadily heading towards the sports institute. She made a mental note to tell Allie about it later. Her sister was becoming increasingly more interested in pursuing a career in soccer and Cassandra just knew she would adore the grounds here. 

"I was in the literature society in my first year and the books we covered were wonderful," Jonathan continued, as they walked side by side, "What novels have you been studying at school?" 

"Well, we studied _The Scarlett Letter_ — which I loved," Cassandra said, excitedly, "And _Fahrenheit 451_ as well as _Gone with the Wind-_ -"

"Oh, god really? I can't stand that book," He said, with a loud laugh.

Cassandra gulped, feeling like she had just been slapped in the face. Maybe, she really was too invested in that novel.

"Because of the racism?" She asked, quickly, "I mean, I agree — the racial framing and stereotypes were problematic so—"

"I mean, yeah, the racism I guesss," He said, almost dismissively, "But I just hated the whole thing. Like, it's just a pathetic love story with the two most insufferable main characters. I couldn't stand it."

The blonde stood still, absorbing the information before quickly nodding and clearing her throat. 

"Oh, yes. I completely agree," The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them, "It's a terrible book."

He grinned, looking pleased with her response as she smiled back, guilt pooling in her stomach. 

They reached the final destination of the tour shortly after that, and the students began to disperse around them — Jonathan informing her that he too had better be off. But somehow amongst the many words exchanged, she had scored an invite to an elite gathering of literature students happening that night. 

She couldn't deny it —it was an exciting opportunity. She had always wanted to be a part of a book club, as lame as it sounded. Her and Helena had tried to start one back in middle school and Harry of all people was one of the first members surprisingly — but after hierarchy became a thing and Harry could no longer be seen at such an establishment due to his rising popularity status, he left and took half the members with him. 

Cassandra waved at Jonathan with a warm smile, as he walked back in the direction of the Medical buildings. 

"What the hell was that?"

She placed the voice immediately and turned around, hands on her hips. Harry stood nearby, surrounded by the remaining stragglers from the tour. 

"What?" 

He held his hand in front of his face for a second, blocking the harsh rays of sunlight. "You just said you hated Gone with the Wind."

Cassandra's eyebrows furrowed. "So?"

"But you love Gone with the Wind."

"How would you even know that?" Cassandra muttered, as she began to walk in the direction of the dorms, Harry not far behind her.

"Because I listened to you gush about Rhett and Scarlett's _passionate_ romance every week in sophomore literature," Harry replied, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Cassandra stopped in her tracks, dumbfounded. She turned around to face him.

"That was like two years ago."

"Yeah. And even _I_ remember it."

"Okay so. Whatever," She fumbled, trying to find an explanation, "People change. Maybe, I don't like it anymore."

Harry gave her a knowing look and Cassandra sighed impatiently. He could always see right through her. And she hated it. 

"Why would you say that to him? I mean, what were you trying to do? Impress him?"

Heat began rushing to her cheeks and she knew from the look in his eyes, she had given the game away. 

"You were, weren't you!" He looked almost amused, shaking his head with a smile.

"No...I wasn't."

"Did Student Body President Cassandra Pressman just lie for a guy's attention?"

Cassandra sent him an angry look, well aware that her cheeks were moving from a bright pink colour to a dark shade of crimson. She cursed herself for not being able to think of a comeback. 

"Well," Harry said, letting out a chuckle, "All I'll say is, your taste is....questionable."

Her head shot up at that. "Excuse me?"

"Yeah, I mean — look at that guy."

She chewed her lip for a moment, glowering at him.

"You're probably right. My taste can't be good at all considering I slept with _you_ ," She bit back, hastily with a glare. 

Harry raised his eyebrows, seemingly impressed at her response. 

"Touché." He said, with a smile, "Well, you do whatever you want then."

"Thanks, I was planning to," Cassandra snapped, "And anyway, he's invited me to a drinks night with his friends and the rest of the literature club tonight."

"How riveting." 

"Yes, it will be."

"You'd definitely prefer that to the Frat party I'm going to tonight," Harry said, with a smug look, "Sounds like your kind of...crowd."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing really...," The dark haired boy paused on the spot and shrugged, "Just that...it's our _pal_ Johnathan over here and a bunch of other people who think they're better than everyone - all in the one room. So, you'll fit right in."

Cassandra's face immediately fell. "God, why do you _always_ have to do that?"

"Do what?"

"You know, you make it so hard for people to be nice to you."

Harry's grin disappeared as soon as it had arrived at that. He took a step closer to her. 

"That's rich coming from you," He said, accusingly, "You're the one hanging out with the _Jonathans'_ of the world and acting like everyone else is beneath you." 

"You are the _only_ person who thinks that!" Cassandra practically yelled back, the words leaving her with such ferocity, a few heads turned towards them in the courtyard. 

Harry stood opposite her, shaking his head in disbelief. "Whatever, your _majesty_."

Cassandra stared at him for a long moment, hurt registering in her eyes. 

"Fuck you, Harry," She finally said, " _Fuck._ You."

* * *

8:17pm

The atmosphere of the casual drinks with Jonathan and the rest of the literature club was different than what she had imagined. It was _sophisticated —_ almost anachronistic in a way. Old paintings and faded frescos lined the walls of the room in which they sat, the plush leather couches seemingly less comfortable than they looked. Not to mention, the lack of girls present was making her feel like she had intruded on some kind of gentleman's club. She sat in the corner, sipping at her drink idly. 

Cassandra quickly surmised that the room's interior design wasn't the only outdated part. The views expressed, even if only about stories of fictions, were also ideas that the blonde had assumed (or at least hoped) had been left in the last century. She sat in wonderment as the privileged boys around her discussed in prideful voices their opinions of the texts. The two other girls present sat in silence, but looks of encouragement graced their young faces. It disgusted her. A few drinks in, she decided she had better speak her mind — or risk becoming the very antithesis of everything she thought herself to be. 

"I don't know if I would agree with that, Sam."

The words left her quietly but with confidence — _debating had taught her well_ , she thought. A few heads turned to look at her, the boy she had interrupted who was sitting opposite, looking surprised.

"Surmising that a woman is crazy or mad, because she simply has an emotional reaction to a clearly traumatic event is a bit of a stretch, don't you think?" She continued, staring Sam dead in the eye. 

She felt Jonathan shift uncomfortably next to her. Sam's look of shock quickly transitioned into one of extreme annoyance. He turned to the others for something — anything. They all exchanged looks, as Cassandra simply stared back at him, confused by the dramatics of the situation. 

"Why don't you get us some refills, yeah?" Jonathan suddenly said to her after a moment, taking her hand in his.

Her mouth fell open. "Excuse me?"

"There's wine and beer in the drawing room."

The blonde let out a disbelieving laugh, crossing her arms in front of her chest. Jonathan however, continued to smile at her, but it didn't reach his eyes. That look alone was enough to leave a bitter taste in her mouth. Nevertheless, she stood up quickly and moved in the direction of the drawing room, relieved at the thought of being without their company at least for a short while. _What the fuck was wrong with these people_?

Cassandra entered the drawing room with haste, her body tense with anger. She scanned the room quickly before locating the drinks in the corner. As she moved to reach for the closest wine bottle and began to question why the hell she had even agreed to do this, she felt her phone start buzzing in her back pocket. She shifted on the spot, reaching for it and upon seeing the caller ID, she brought the phone to her ear. 

"Why are you calling me?" She questioned, sharply. 

"Better than in person," Harry's sarcastic voice rang out on the other end of the line, "Means I don't have to look at your face."

She pinched the bridge of her nose in annoyance, letting out a sigh. "Charming, Harry."

"That's not to say that you don't have a nice face — I mean, you do." 

Cassandra paused on the spot, eyebrows furrowed. 

"What?"

There was a silence, and an amused smile crept its way onto her face. His tone was different — almost nervous.

"As far as faces go I mean," He was almost rambling now, which was something she had never heard from him in her entire life, "You have a nice one."

She bit her lip, suppressing a smile. "What do you want, Harry?"

"You must've left with my jumper last night because I don't have it," He said, clearing his throat loudly, "And you left your shirt here too...so, you'll have to come grab it."

"Well, I can't right now," She replied, pointedly.

"Why not?"

"I'm busy."

She could hear him laugh through the phone. Or perhaps it was someone in the background. It was hard to hear because wherever he was, there was loud music blaring. "Oh, you're at your little meeting with those pompous prats, aren't you?" 

" _Don't_ call them that," Cassandra said, surprising even herself at her ability to defend them given what she had just experienced. 

Perhaps, it was just her desire to never let Harry have the satisfaction of knowing he was right. That most definitely had something to do with it. 

"How's it going?"

 _Terrible._ "Great."

"If it's boring, you can tell me. I promise I won't say I told you so."

"No, it's going great," She repeated, but she knew the words didn't ring true. 

"Come on, Cassandra. I can tell you're lying through the phone."

The blonde could practically hear his smirk without even needing to see his face. 

"No, you can't," She muttered, stubbornly. 

"Yeah, I can."

The blonde sighed loudly. "I have to go."

"Hey, listen, wait."

"What?"

"Just...don't let them talk over you, yeah?"

Cassandra's annoyed expression dissipated slightly at that. She glanced over at the door of the drawing room, letting Harry's words wash over her. 

"Look, I know what these people are like," He muttered, his voice having suddenly gone uncharacteristically soft, "You're probably smarter than most of the guys there — just don't let them treat you like shit, okay? Even _you_ don't deserve that."

And with that he hung up, and Cassandra stood very still, the phone gripped tightly in her hand. 

* * *

10:32pm

When she finally made it back to the comfort of her dorm room, she let out a contented sigh. The evening hadn't been a complete failure after all. While she probably hadn't left the gathering on the best of terms with anyone, (considering after her phonecall with Harry, she had returned to the sitting room with no intention of holding back), she felt a sense of pride — like she had won. Perhaps, that was her problem.

Maybe, she was too competitive. Her sister always used to think so. But then again, that club was home to the most miserable people she had ever had the misfortune to meet and they probably hadn't had anyone there to challenge them or their ideas in a long time. _They needed a 21st century wake up call_ , she thought. When she had excused herself well before the intended finish of the night, Jonathan bid her goodbye with a stiff smile and a kiss on the cheek. And Cassandra had left with a small grin and her morals intact. 

She lay back on her bed for a moment, before throwing some of her clothes back into her suitcase, an amused smile forming on her lips as she saw Ella's side of the room. It was as if the girl had packed for a six month trip — the way clothes were strewn all over her bed and desk. 

The sight of the mess made her think of Allie. This room was a mirror image of her's back home. Which reminded the older Pressman she hadn't talked to her sister since Friday. She pulled up their messages, finding a few from earlier that day that she was yet to respond to. Leaning on her elbows, she began to type out a few replies but just as her finger hovered over the send button, she heard a quiet knock at the door — so quiet she thought perhaps she had imagined it. 

Placing her phone on the bedside table, she quickly moved across the room and pulled opened the door a fraction. And her eyes widened a little when she saw _him_. He stood opposite her, a shy grin pulling at his lips at the sight of her. 

"You're not at your party," She blurted, straight away.

Harry let out a small chuckle. "And you're not at your...weird gathering thing."

Cassandra rolled her eyes, preferring not to respond. Her gaze then fell to something in his hand — a crumpled white shirt. 

"Oh — you brought my shirt," She commented, surprise in her voice, "Thank you. Suppose you'll be wanting your jumper back?"

He nodded, his mouth curving into an almost playful smile, "If it's not too much trouble."

The blonde moved across the room in silence, picking up the oversized hoodie and returning to where he stood in the hall. He watched as she held it out to him, before slowly removing it from her grip and grazing his hand lightly over hers. She felt his gaze burning into her where she stood, but she kept her eyes downwards, afraid to look up — afraid to acknowledge the strange pull she felt towards him whenever he was close. 

When she finally met his gaze, he was giving her that look — the one that would most definitely be her undoing one of these days — and she let out a breathe she didn't know she was holding in. 

Harry hovered in the door way for a moment, his dark curls dangling in his face as he looked down at her. 

"Well, goodnight, I guess," He finally said, his eyes never leaving hers.

"Goodnight," She whispered back. 

And with that, he turned around and began making his way down the hallway, as Cassandra slowly closed her door behind him. The blonde stood for a moment, leaning her head back against the wall and scrunching her eyes shut as she attempted to ignore the gnawing feeling that seemed to settle in her stomach every time he walked away from her. 

Before she knew it, she was slowly pacing the room, running a hand through her hair. All she could think was _Harry, Harry, Harry._ It was like her brain couldn't entertain the thought of anything else. A minute or so passed before she finally stopped on the spot. A look of resolution swept across her features. Looking apprehensive but determined, she walked back towards the door, wrenching it open with such force that she nearly hurtled into a figure standing on the other side. 

And there he stood, his eyes wide, lips slightly parted — chest heaving. His gaze flitted from her eyes to her mouth ever so slightly and she knew straight away that the decision had been made for the both of them. 

Within seconds, Harry was kissing her. And she was kissing him back. Her hands in his hair, his arm snaking around her waist, pulling her closer as he pushed her backwards into the room, letting the door slam shut behind them. 

"We shouldn't do this," Cassandra mumbled, breathlessly against his mouth.

Harry responded by trailing kisses down her neck as she let her head fall against his shoulder, "Yeah, we definitely shouldn't do this."

The blonde smiled in response just as he buried his face into her chest, causing her to let out a gasp. He ran a finger along her jaw, before leaning in closer, his curls brushing against her cheek.

"I still hate you, you know," He murmured, his breathe hot against her ear. 

But the words left him without the usual malice. Like they were no longer foes. 

"Like I could ever forget," She replied nevertheless, before roughly guiding his face back to hers, holding his chin between her thumb and forefinger. 

Without hesitation, he lunged forward, capturing her lips in a kiss so hard, she could already feel the bruises starting to form. She bit his lip in retaliation, and he groaned loudly as her tongue entered his mouth and Cassandra wondered if she could get drunk on this — on him. 

He began pulling at the buttons on her shirt shortly after. But she lightly slapped his hand away, pulling her shirt over her head in one swift motion and flinging it to the side. He stared back, looking impressed, his eyes glossing over her small frame in awe as she stepped closer to him. His eyes then dropped to her chest and halted there for a moment and she knew straight away from the change in his expression what he was staring at. _Her scar._ When his eyes met hers again, there was a softness in his gaze that made her heart leap into her throat. He tentatively grazed his fingers over her skin, leaning in to press a few light kisses down the scar, and Cassandra smiled, breathing him in. 

"So, are you-" He was starting to say but she had already raised a finger to his lips.

Her hands glided down his chest playfully before she slid his own shirt off his broad shoulders. She hooked her arms around his neck, drawing him closer to her as their eyes were aligned. 

"Just stop talking," She whispered, a hint of a challenge in her voice.

Harry said nothing in return, and with a smirk, pushed her backwards onto the bed behind them and began kissing her all over. 

_God._ She hadn't known pleasure like this in her life. _Ever_. And with Harry Bingham of all people. 

What the hell had she gotten herself into. 


	3. it was real for me (yeah, real for me)

\- SUNDAY -

2:58am

The moonlight danced across the blonde's pale cheeks as she stirred slowly, pulling the blankets closer to her. But as she nestled back into her pillow, Cassandra felt a familiar discomfort in her chest. Her eyes widened immediately, concern gracing her features. Her fringe was almost plastered to forehead, shiny with droplets of sweat. Sitting up quickly as the realisation hit her, she untangled herself from the sheets, before padding through the darkness in search of her bag.

At the sound of movement behind her, she halted on the spot.

"What are you doing?" A groggy voice whispered through the darkness.

The blonde glanced over her shoulder, to find Harry propped up a little on his side, looking over at her. His dark curls dangled down in front of his eyes, concealing his expression.

Cassandra let out a sigh, as she continued rummaging through her bag in search of her toiletry bag.

"I'm just taking my pills...I need to take them for my...you know," She muttered quietly, gesturing at her chest, all the while knowing he probably couldn't even see her.

"Are you okay?" He asked after a moment, the words coming out soft — tentative.

She pulled a few more items of clothing out, before her hand finally landed on the bottle of pills.

Extracting one out and swallowing it in one quick gulp, she shoved the bottle back into her bag. "Yeah, I'm fine — I found them."

He was still looking at her when she turned back around. "You sure, you're okay?"

Cassandra slowly moved to the bed, laying down beside him. He was lying on his back, but his head was tilted in her direction, eyes locked on her. And the vulnerability in his gaze was doing weird things to her heart rate.

A small smirk formed on her lips, as she stared at the ceiling. "You worried about me or something?"

"No," He bit back stubbornly, his gaze suddenly shifting to anywhere but her.

The blonde rolled her eyes, leaning back more comfortably into her pillow as the two of them fell into a comfortable silence. She turned away from him slightly, as she felt a wave of fatigue wash over her.

But as her eyes began to flutter shut, she felt his hand slowly graze down her arm, his fingers seamlessly interlocking with hers. Cassandra felt a tug in her chest at the contact, resisting the urge to turn over and look at him. He squeezed her palm gently, his soft voice breaking through the darkness.

"Yeah."

* * *

9:13am

Cassandra awoke to the sound of loud voices coming from the hallway. It sounded as though a group of students had convened directly outside her room to participate in a shouting match of some kind. Fantastic. _College life_ , she thought to herself tiredly. _This is what the next four years of my life will look like._

The blonde yawned loudly, her eyes flitting to the other side of the room. And she breathed out a sigh of relief when she saw Ella's side of the room to be vacant, the bed looking as though it hadn't been slept in at all. She didn't know what she would've done if her roommate had seen her with Harry — she had literally walked in on the two of them making out in this very room — not even two days ago. No — she would take this to grave before Ella found out about it. 

She rubbed her eyes, as memories of the previous night began to take shape in her mind. Her face broke out into a small smile as she leaned to her left a little in order to nudge Harry — but as she turned over, she noticed the other side of the bed to be empty. She tilted her head to the side, scanning the room for signs of life but there were none. He was nowhere to be found. She let out a breathy laugh.

Of course. _Of course._

An unfamiliar sinking feeling began to take shape in her belly, despite her desperate attempts to ignore it.

Because she should have expected this. She _had_ expected this — expected him to up and leave the first chance he got. She would've been a fool not to.

(But then again, maybe she was just a fool anyway. For letting any of this happen in the first place. Because now, she was just a _stupid_ girl, lying in an empty bed, with _stupid_ thoughts of _stupid_ boy who didn't deserve any place in her head or in her heart. And yet here he was, refusing to leave.)

_Fucking hell._

Cassandra brushed her fringe out of her eyes, pulling the sheets tighter around her body. She sighed loudly, as she leant against the headboard, glancing over at what had been his side of the bed. She wondered what time he had snuck out on her. An hour ago? Two maybe? 

Perhaps, she had no right to be annoyed. It wasn't like she hadn't done the same thing to him the day before. But there was something about last night that was different to the first...it was less hurried....more tender....almost loving...

She had almost been able to pretend they were different people for a night. They hadn't been _Harry and Cassandra:_ sworn enemies, political opponents, academic rivals, foes — or whatever the fuck they usually were to each other. 

(Or perhaps, they had been more _Harry and Cassandra_ than they'd ever been, and they had just been doing it wrong all these years?)

But it wasn't as simple as all that, and she knew it. Nothing ever was with them. Everything about them was contradictory and confusing. And yet, she was drawn to him in some strange, fucked up way. Maybe, she always had been. (Even if she didn't like to admit it.) 

And in truth, it scared her — the way he made her feel. The fact that she had thought of nothing but him since the moment they had arrived here — away from the chaos of West Ham — was enough for her to know that this _couldn't_ happen.

 _But it did, Cassandra_ , she cursed herself. _It did._

She flopped back on the bed, eyes glued to the ceiling, as she desperately tried to pull her thoughts out of disarray.

Because she knew herself well enough now. She knew that she liked to act as if she knew everything, when in reality there were still so many things she didn't know (she was only seventeen, but still).

Yet, the one thing she did know for sure was that — if there was one person who could pull at her heart strings — hell even pull the damn thing right out of her chest and stamp all over it — it was _him_.

The boy she had spent half her life despising. The boy who had declared war on her ever since middle school. The boy who made her feel more of _everything_ than she ever had before. (Fuck him, honestly.)

She hated him for it. And even more, she hated how much she couldn't seem to hate him. 

Even now, she couldn't escape him — the events of the night before still fresh in her mind. She merely had to close her eyes — and there he was.

The feel of his lips on her skin, of him inside her — the way he held her once it was done, stroking her hair before she slowly drifted off to sleep to the sound of his breathing, his chest rising and falling beneath her.

She had a vague memory of him slipping his hand into hers in the early hours of the morning too. (Which made her stomach tie in knots all over again — because why the _fuck_ did he have to do that?)

All of it was so achingly...intimate. And yet weirdly enough, there wasn't a moment where any of it felt wrong. In fact, it was almost scary just how right it had felt.

And Cassandra couldn't help but wonder if he was like that with all the other girls. If he whispered their names like he did hers or traced small circles on their backs or kissed their scars....soft and slow...

She'd really like to think that he didn't. That she was special. But what the hell would she know?

It was Harry after all. She'd seen him cut girls loose faster than a bullet flying out a canon. He was notorious for that kind of thing — all the boys praised him for it and all the girls fought tooth and nail for his affections despite it.

(And Cassandra couldn't shake the feeling that she had just become _one of those girls_.)

She knew how this sort of thing went. In a few minutes or hours or days, he would cut her loose too. In fact, he probably already had — that's why he'd left her high and dry that morning.

And she couldn't even fault his logic. It made sense for him to leave. It's not like either of them would be caught dead together back home. This thing between them — _whatever it was_ — had run its course. It was over — it had to be. (Right?)

Because fucking him was one thing, holding him was another thing entirely, but losing him....

No — no. That she would not do. She was not about to let herself be burned by Harry Bingham. No fucking way.  
  


* * *

10:23am

Cassandra wasn't one to mope. Ever. She was a productive person, who didn't like to waste time doing unproductive things — like moping. She liked to get on with things. So, that's exactly what she did (after a little moping — for a few minutes at least). She began sorting through her things and cleaning up her side of the room — they were expected to be out of the dorms by the late afternoon after all. 

She had a quick shower after that (at the communal showers — something else she was not looking forward to having to use in future) before slowly making her way to the cafeteria for breakfast. And she was in such a sour mood (because the showers didn't seem to have any hot water left)(and because of Harry Bingham's general existence) that she barely even noticed Lola and few of the others standing nearby at the buffet table. Clearly oblivious to her mood, they waved her over happily and continued stocking up their plates with an array of different foods. 

They were busy exchanging stories of the previous night as they moved to a table in the corner together. Lola grabbed her arm straight away, dragging her along with them, all the while filling her in on the hot surfer boy who had gone down on her at a frat party the night before. Cassandra nodded along enthusiastically, amused at how open they all were with each other, despite having only met two days prior. 

Ella was already sitting at the table when they approached, staring at her phone. But when Cassandra sat down next to her, she was surprised to find both Ella and Lola grinning at her, almost mischievously. 

"So, have a crazy night last night, Cassandra?" Lola asked, before placing a very loaded mouthful of toast in her mouth. 

_The last thing she wanted to do, was talk about last night_.

The blonde shrugged, feigning indifference. "No...not really."

"That's not what Ella tells me," Lola had a devilish smile on her face now, as she leaned forwards in her chair, "She said she found you in bed with that hot guy she hooked up with on Friday."

Cassandra nearly spat out her drink.

"And they were spooning!" The girl to her left (who's name Cassandra didn't even know?) chimed in, excitedly.

She chanced a glance at Ella, who — to her surprise — was nodding fervently, an innocent smile gracing her features. "It was really cute actually."

Cassandra slid down lower in her seat, looking embarrassed, before glancing around at the rest of the table — who seemed to be eying her with great interest all of sudden.

"Whatever you saw — was not what it looked like," She said in a hushed voice, as if Harry himself might hear her. 

(But she had already given the room a quick scan. He wasn't here. And now she was convinced that he was avoiding her. Surprise, surprise.)

"You know, I would've been mad at you," Ella continued on, pointedly ignoring her words, "But considering you and Harry have some deep history, you pretty much called dibs. I can respect that."

Cassandra opened her mouth to respond but her friend waved a hand in front of her face, before continuing.

"That said — if you two are broken up by the fall when college starts, he is fair game," She said, with a giggle. 

"Trust me, he's fair game now," Cassandra insisted, "We're not...together or whatever."

"So, what was last night then?"

"A mistake."

"And the night before?" Ella raised her eyebrows, sending her questioning look as Cassandra's eyes widened in surprise.

"Word travels fast around here. That's college life for you. Everyone knows everything about everyone," She said, with a shrug, answering the blonde's question before she even had to ask.

Cassandra floundered for a moment, realising it wasn't going to be possible to talk her way out of this one. Instead, she closed her mouth and returned her gaze to her full plate of food which was yet to be touched.

"I don't know why you're fighting it so much. I mean, look at you two. I could totally see it."

"He hates me," She said, reminding herself as much as her friend, "And I'm really not his biggest fan either—"

"Yeah and I'm sure that makes the sex even better—"

"Ella!" Cassandra hissed, her fork falling onto her plate with a loud clatter.

"Jesus, calm down, Cass," Ella gave her a little shove, but her smile was warm, "Maybe a guy like Harry is exactly what you need."

"I don't need anyone." She replied, stubbornly. 

Ella nodded slowly, looking amused but nevertheless she didn't bring him up for the remainder of their conversation. 

* * *

11:54am

"Oh my god, she's alive!" Her sister's loud voice announced, dramatically on the other end of the line.

She had finally decided to call Allie. She had been meaning to since yesterday and when she realised that the texts she had started to send the night before, didn't actually get sent (because _someone_ had shown up at her door and caused her to forget about anything and everything else) (and no, she was not still thinking about him), she thought she had better reach out. 

"Wow — hey Allie."

"Okay — well you literally fell off the face of the earth." 

"It's only been 2 days, Al," Cassandra said, rolling her eyes.

"And you didn't text me at all? You know me, I need details," Allie chirped, enthusiastically, "Is it everything you thought it would be?"

The blonde looked around the sunlit campus grounds. There were clusters of students here and there, sprawled around on the grass. And it was warm out — even under the shadowy branches of a willow tree where she stood, sporting a cotton blouse and a short denim skirt — courtesy of her younger sister, who had helped her pack ("Cassandra, I love you, but you cannot wear your old lady skirts at Yale, okay?" Allie had said, shoving a few items of clothing into her older sister's hands).

She smiled, before replying: "Yeah, I mean, it's pretty great here. The campus is amazing, the lectures have been great — and the people in my dorm are all pretty nice actually."

"And the guys? What are they like?"

"What do you mean?"

"Come on, Cass, you always said that college boys would be better than the assholes we have in West Ham."

"Oh right — yeah I mean, they're good...I guess," She trailed off, struggling to remember the name of one single college boy she had met — besides Jonathan (who at this rate, she would rather forget).

The only person who seemed to come to mind was one of _those_ assholes from West Ham. Good job, Cassandra. 

Allie suddenly let out an a gasp. "Oh my god."

"What is it?" Cassandra questioned, her eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

"You hooked up with someone, didn't you?"

"What? No, I didn't." She said, a little too quickly.

Allie's loud laugh rang out the on other end of the line. "Holy shit — you did!"

"I did _not_."

"Oh, give it up already. Who is he? What's he like?"

"Okay, I really have to go."

"Wait — is he cute? What's his name?"

"Allie, I'm hanging up now."

"Fine, but expect a full interrogation when I get there with mom today!"

* * *

1:21pm

She didn't see him until that afternoon. Harry was lugging his bags over to his black BMW (of course), and conversing loudly with another guy from the dorms a few metres away. Cassandra was leaving the visitors centre, after having signed some forms when he noticed her. She froze on the spot when his eyes met hers. _Well, this was uncharted territory._ And when he said goodbye to his friend, and began to approach her, she didn't know what the hell to do. 

In truth, she was pretty surprised that he didn't run for the hills the moment he saw her, given the way he had just up and left her that morning. But instead, he just stood there, looking at her — almost bashfully, she might add. (She made a point not to smile back.)

"Fancy seeing you here," He looked her up and down, with a playful grin. 

Cassandra pursed her lips, unsure of what to say. _The nerve of him._

"Nice car," She commented, after a moment, her voice dripping with sarcasm, "You know it probably cost the same amount as my parent's mortgage."

Harry gave her an amused look, before rolling his eyes. "So, how you getting home then?"

"Mom and Allie are on their way to pick me up," She replied, stiffly. 

His eyebrows quirked up at that. "Wait, you didn't drive here?"

"Nope," Cassandra said, almost sheepishly, "I...don't have my license yet."

"Wait, you're telling me the Student Body president doesn't know how to drive a car?

"I've been...busy."

"That is shameful," He said with a laugh, brushing his dark curls out of his eyes, "Even I know how to drive and I'm always second string to you."

Cassandra rolled her eyes.

"Well, if you're so good, why don't you teach me?" She asked, regretting the words the second they left her mouth.

"Maybe I will," He said, after a moment, with a hint of a challenge in his voice.

Cassandra stared back at him, looking shocked. "That was a joke — I would never _willingly_ get into a car with you."

"Why? I happen to be a very good driver, thank you very much," He snapped, looking offended but there was still a lightness in his eyes, "I might've even offered you a lift home if I'd known your whole fucking family was driving all the way here just to pick you up."

"You would've?" She raised her eyebrows.

He shrugged, casually. "I mean, yeah."

"And in your nice car too? Wow," She said, acting as if she were thoroughly impressed.

"Well, don't read too much into it," Harry cleared his throat obnoxiously, playing along, "It's probably better for the environment that way, you know — one car instead of two."

She was smirking at him now. "I didn't realise you cared about the environment, Harry."

"No, no — I do."

"How thoughtful."

He nodded for a moment before—

"Besides, I've always thought car sex would be fun, so," He said with a shrug and Cassandra let out a loud scoff.

"And there it is," She said, shaking her head with disapproval.

(She couldn't fucking stand him — and yet her mouth was still twisted into a smile for some reason.)

Harry put up his hands in defence, laughing lightly. "A joke, I swear."

"You're an ass."

"I'm joking!"

"I don't think that you are." The blonde finally gave in, joining him in his laughter.

He leant against the nearest car, still grinning. "I am!"

Cassandra tried to ignore the warmth she felt in her chest as he grinned sheepishly at her — the last of a laugh still etched on his face. They stood a couple feet apart — the air between them having shifted somewhat.

He was looking down at her, a soft glint in his eye that made her want to pull him close and never let him go — a realisation that seemed to shock her to her core. _What had gotten into her?_ She lowered her gaze, a redness fanning out over her cheeks.

"Stop looking at me like that."

He tilted his head to the side, suggestively. "Like what?"

"Like...like you've seen me naked," She said quickly, trying to hide a smile and the fact that her cheeks were quickly transitioning from crimson to magenta.

He smirked at that. "But I _have_ seen you naked."

 _Goddamn him, and his stupid smile_. "Harry..."

"What? It's true?" He quipped, a laugh rippling through him, "Would you rather be fully clothed next time? Because—"

The blonde's mouth fell open at that. "There is not gonna _be_ a next time."

"Right...." He gave her a knowing smile.

"Don't think this can keep happening once we're back," She muttered, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, self-consciously.

"Why not?"

_Because I don't trust you not to hurt me._

"Come on — you know why," She said instead, adding an eye roll for further emphasis. 

"No...I don't ?" Harry said, quirking his eyebrows up, playfully.

"We don't do....that," She said gesturing between them, awkwardly.

"Well, we kinda already did."

She crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Harry, I'm serious."

"So am I?"

"It was a one time thing."

"You mean, _two_ time thing?"

Cassandra sucked in a breath, closing her eyes shut in frustration. 

"What? I'm just saying—"

"Look, we were away, okay?" She let out a loud sigh, "We just...you know, got caught up in the moment...or something but — it's over now."

When she finally met Harry's gaze, she saw him watching her with a confused expression, but there was still amusement in his eyes.

"Just like that?"

"Yeah," She said, trying to sound sure of herself but in truth, she wasn't sure about anything anymore.

(And the way he was staring at her was making her even more unsure.)

A look of realisation crossed his face a moment later, and to her surprise, he let out a loud laugh. Cassandra sent him a questioning look. 

"Ah, I get it," He said, a smirk snaking its way onto his face, "You're afraid you might feel something."

Cassandra's eyes widened, and she suddenly felt more exposed than she had the previous two nights. "What? No."

"Yes, you are."

"No, I'm not," She spluttered, indignantly.

"So, you're telling me you didn't feel anything?"

He moved a little closer, stepping into her personal space, as her breath caught in her throat. He was close enough that she could count the freckles on his nose, see the different shades in his irises, even press her lips against his—

"Anything at all?" His gaze dropped to her mouth, lips still curled into an annoyingly smug smile.

(And Cassandra didn't know whether she wanted to kiss him or kill him — or both).

"Harry, this is stupid," She managed to get out, avoiding his gaze.

He tilted his head forward slightly, his curls falling forward onto his face (and Cassandra stopped herself at the last second from reaching up to brush them out of his eyes. _God_ , she was so fucked.)

"Oh, come on — just admit it."

"No, I—"

"Come on, Cass."

"You're being infuriating—"

"Just look me in the eye, and tell me it didn't mean anything to you," He gave her a teasing look.

She could tell he was enjoying this. But she wasn't about to let him win. "Will you stop—"

"Only if you tell me it didn't mean anything to yo—"

"It didn't mean _anything_ to me!" She finally snapped — the words leaving her way harsher than she intended.

She waited for him to retaliate, to fight back, to say something — _anything_ — but instead, all she got was deafening silence. When her eyes locked with his, he took a slow step back — any trace of a smile having completely vanished from his features. Cassandra was staring at him in shock. She held her breath.

"Well...then...that's all you had to say," He said quietly after a moment, his eyes fixed firmly on the ground.

He eventually met her gaze, attempting a look of indifference but his eyes gave the game away. She had _never_ seen him like this — as if all the walls he constantly put up to keep everyone out, had finally broken down. Cassandra stood very still, now acutely aware of the enormous distance between them, despite him standing so close.

"Oh, and don't worry — I won't tell anyone," He added, a slight bitterness in his voice, "Wouldn't wanna drag your precious name through the mud."

"Harry...," She whispered, moving closer to him, reaching out a hand to touch his arm.

But she watched him mirror her exact movements, taking a step further away from her.

"Whatever," He muttered under his breath, before turning away from her, and heading back towards his car.

She wanted to say something — anything that might make him turn around or look back at her or just _stay_ a minute longer. Because that bubble of fantasy that they had been living in these past few days was about to burst, and she would do anything to stop it if she could—

But any and all words seemed to die on her tongue. Instead, her gaze merely followed him, as he slammed the door of his car and started up the engine.

Then, he was _gone_.

And the dull ache that quickly seemed to settle in her gut as she watched him go, was really _fucking_ bad.

* * *

2:42pm

The ache didn't seem to fade. At least, not for a long while. 

Not until a distraction arose in the form of her sister and mother arriving at the campus an hour or so later. She was so pleased to see them, she almost crushed them in the tightest of hugs, taking them both surprised. 

Her mother immediately began asking about the weekend as they walked through the grounds, plying her with questions about the classes and the facilities and the people. Cassandra ended up giving them a short tour of the campus, even taking them back to her temporary dorm room so she could pick up her bags, before they decided to head off. But of course, they made a quick pitstop at the university gift shop first (Allie was desperate to buy a Yale jumper — one of the those ones with the big collegiate letters).

And for some time, Cassandra was able to forget about the events of earlier that day. That was — until Allie turned to her with a sly smile the moment they were alone, and Cassandra let out a groan, already knowing what she was going to ask. They were standing by the car, drinking iced coffees while they waited for their mother to finish speaking to one of the campus advisors.

"So...tell me about this guy." She said, with a mischievous grin.

"Allie..."

"Come on, Cass. You knew I was going to ask — I don't why you're being so secretive," Allie said, with an amused laugh, "It's not like _I_ would know them."

Cassandra took a long, purposeful sip from her drink at that, carefully avoiding her sister's gaze (and hoping that if her cheeks were growing redder, that it was merely because of the heat).

"Oh, creating suspense, I like it," Her sister said, and Cassandra elbowed her gently in the side, suppressing a grin.

"I missed you, Al."

Allie merely rolled her eyes. "Quit changing the subject — I want answers. Tell me about him."

"There's not much to tell," Cassandra finally replied, as casually as she could while fiddling with a loose string on her denim skirt.

Allie said nothing for a moment, a knowing smile on her face. "You really like him, huh."

"No- no, I don't," She said, frustrated at herself when the words left her all awkward and uncertain, "We...it was nothing really..."

Her sister's face fell slightly at that, and she placed a warm hand on her shoulder.

"Did something happen? Did he hurt you?" Allie suddenly asked, worriedly, "Because if he did, I'll fly to whatever rich-ass state he lives in and beat him up—"

( _You wouldn't have to go that far_ , Cassandra thought quietly to herself.)

"No, it just — it wouldn't have worked out, that's all," She ended up replying, a bit lamely.

"But—"

Thankfully, their mother emerged from the information centre at that exact moment, and Cassandra had never been more grateful to see her in her life. As they moved to the car, Allie sent her a look as if to say, _this is not over_.

Luckily, Allie didn't bring up the subject again on the drive back home though. And as they drove out of the Yale parking lot, New Haven and all its old buildings disappearing behind them in the rear view mirror, Cassandra leant her head against the window. She hadn't realised until then, just how exhausting the last few days had been, and her eyes closed over almost straight away. 

When she woke up from her doze, they were well and truly on the road — Allie listening to her headphones, while her mother's gaze remained fixed on the road ahead. A little after they reached the turn off that signified they were about an hour away from home, Cassandra began scrolling through notifications on her phone.

That's when she saw it. Amongst a few other missed calls and texts from earlier that day. (5) unread messages from Harry Bingham. Tentatively, she opened up the messenger app. 

_Cassandra's Phone, 4:42pm_

HARRY: im sorry i rushed off this morning.

HARRY: ur roommate came in and it got awkward. so i left.

HARRY: just didn't want you to think i ditched u 

HARRY: or something

HARRY: because i wouldn't do that 

_Sent: 8:19am_

She stared at the messages, a crestfallen look on her face. He had sent them after he left her room that morning, she quickly surmised — hours before she found him in the parking lot. And that same knotted feeling returned to her stomach almost immediately. 

God, what a fucking _mess_.

* * *

**Two Weeks Later**

Cassandra couldn't quite express her relief at spring break commencing the week after she arrived back from New Haven. A few weeks away from school were exactly what she needed. To give herself some space. To clear her head from the stress of college and classes (and more importantly, Harry and whatever the _hell_ had gone down at Yale.) She hoped that with time she would be able to find some clarity. For whatever it was that she was feeling.

But unfortunately for her, no such clarity was found. When the last day of spring break came around, all she realised was that she hadn't stopped thinking about Harry Bingham for fourteen days straight. (Again, good job, Cassandra.)

She didn't know how to do this. And she didn't like what all of this was doing to her. She felt uneasy and agitated and tense all the time (at least, more so than usual). And the number of messages she had drafted to send him but then deleted was embarrassing. She didn't know what to say. Or think. 

(Which was why she made a pact with herself — to bury any and all feelings in future so that she could avoid _this_ very thing ever happening again.)

By the time the first Monday of their last semester came around, Cassandra had made a resolute decision — that she would talk to him on the first day back. She was nearly eighteen and he already was (not that he acted like it) — so, they technically were adults — and surely they could handle this like adults too. She would simply clear the air with him and that would be enough to put a stop to these incessant thoughts reeking havoc on her brain every goddamn minute of every day. Hopefully.

But she didn't see him all morning. And by the time lunch break came around, she had thought of a better way to deal with the situation: _not seeing him at all._ Sure it wasn't a long term solution, but nevertheless — a solution. 

It wasn't until she arrived at the cafeteria with Allie (who was explaining to her and Will in great detail something about a new jacket she had bought and how the woman at the store totally ripped her off), that she realised that her little solution wasn't going to work. Avoiding him just was not going to be possible.

"The lady at the counter was so rude — she thought I couldn't afford the jacket, so of course I had to buy it, just to prove her wrong," Allie was saying, with a scathing look, "What a bitch." 

"As long as you find some place to wear it, you'll get your money's worth," Cassandra said, giving Allie a nudge as they collected their trays of food, and began to circle the room. 

It was then that Allie turned to her, excitedly. 

"Well, I thought I could wear it to Harry and Kelly's party this weekend," She replied, with a grin, "It would match the earrings I got last week."

Cassandra immediately perked up at the mention of Harry's name, moving her gaze back to her sister. Her eyebrows raised, as they moved towards an empty table.

"Harry...and Kelly?" She asked, attempting nonchalance, "They're....are they...you know..."

"Back on? I mean, you tell me," Allie replied, with a laugh, gesturing over Cassandra's shoulder.

The blonde slowly turned around, bracing herself. And when her eyes landed on him, her heart sank. There he was — standing on the opposite side of the cafeteria, an arm slung over Kelly's shoulder. The shorter girl laughed loudly at something he said, before pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Cassandra swallowed hard, trying to ignore the lump in her throat and the burning sensation brewing in the pit of her stomach. She knew she was staring at them, but for some reason she couldn't pull her eyes away. And she mustn't have been very subtle about it, because Harry looked over at her not long after, their eyes locking from across the room. His smile faded slightly at the sight of her, as he ran a hand through his hair, almost nervously.

Allie dropped her tray onto the table in front of them loudly, completely oblivious to the staring contest her and Harry seemed to be partaking in at the present moment.

"They always get back together though — it was only a matter of time, right?"

"Right." Cassandra whispered back to her sister, without breaking her gaze away from him.

It was as if the rest of the room had fallen away — the way he was staring at her. And she didn't think she could take it if he looked away first, so Cassandra quickly averted her eyes and refused to look back. 

_So,_ this was how it was going to be then, she thought, watching as he slowly turned his attention back to Kelly.

Harry would walk the school halls with his old girlfriend back on his arm (because she was nothing more than a quick fuck in the off-season of Kelly and Harry's tumultuous romance, right?)

And Cassandra would pretend that it didn't hurt every time she saw them together (because there was no way she had any right to feel jealous, did she?)

He would spit insults at her and she would retaliate and their arguments would turn explosive in record time (because what the hell else were they supposed to do?)

And they would _both_ pretend that Yale — and all the unwanted, confusing, frustrating, exhilarating, all-consuming, _life de-railing_ feelings that came with it — never happened. 

Yeah — that sounded about right.   
  


**"It's Cassandra. It's always been Cassandra."**

**The Society, 2019**

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow !! all finished!! <3 i'm sorry to end it on this note, but i really wanted this fic to set up the dynamic they have in the show — to really explain why they act the way they do towards each other in the early episodes. 
> 
> their relationship to me hinted at some serious angst, especially on harry's side, so i really hope i conveyed that. thanks again for reading!! any kudos/comments would be greatly appreciated. ily <3


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